


ʻOhana holoʻokoʻa

by Jenwryn



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bisexuality, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, M/M, POV Female Character, Relationship(s), Women Being Awesome, everything is gay and nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And god only knows she's glad her mother can't be party to her internal monologues because, really, Cat doubts she was raised with the intention of her feeling pleased about things like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ʻOhana holoʻokoʻa

_Where I live as a woman is to men a wilderness. But to me it is home._  
—Ursula Le Guin, Woman/Wilderness, 1986.

 

She sits back, sand sticky on her legs, damp and rough to the lazy brush of her hand, and takes another pull of her beer. It's still cool, even beneath the late afternoon warmth, and she's not drunk enough that it doesn't still tingle against the roof of her mouth. She watches them, easy and with no pretence; watches the way that they laugh, and how McGarrett's eyes crinkle, and – well, their eyes, their eyes. Cat's never seen anything quite like their eyes. She grins against the bottle's neck, rests its chill against her cheek and turns it slowly. She likes how Danny treats him. Hell, Danny is the one she knows least, but she can still see the flesh of what she'd previously suspected. It makes her happy and god only knows she's glad her mother can't be party to her internal monologues because, really, Cat doubts she was raised with the intention of her feeling pleased about things like this. Cat shifts her calves in the sand; lets her gaze follow the way that the men move together, playing silly buggers with a football, and she knows she could hold her own out there in the spray if she wanted to join them, but she doesn't want to, doesn't want to interrupt. Doesn't need to.

The sharp, rich tang of the barbecue – which she's actually surprised McGarrett isn't lording over, two-man beach football distraction or no – lures her to her feet, and she heads towards the house, letting sand rest where it will. Chin Ho and Kamekona are not quite bickering about how best to barbecue, the _not quite_ presumably caused by a special blend of Chin's impeccable poker face and Kamekona's apparent obliviousness. Cat breathes in the scent of the cooking, leans against the lanai, and wonders how it is that none of the menfolk around here seem the least bit distracted by the drape of Kono across a chair, seaslick and making imperious demands about having first taste of the food. Cat lets herself be a little distracted, just to make up for the failings of the boys, it goes without saying, and listens to the girl talk Star Trek with Max and his roommate. Cat can't remember the skinny boy's name, but he seems to have been wooed by Kono's spirited defence of Uhura – “but seriously, brah, that chick's badass, she could so take him” – even if he's clearly oblivious to her other charms. Cat can't help the smile that tips her lips behind the green of her bottle. Honestly, McGarrett should probably just go ahead and raise a rainbow flag over the 5-0 headquarters – no confusion to this fair State's rainbow-love intended – though she's sure he'd look at her with obtuse blankness if she suggested it. But, yeah, Cat's seen enough of how the strange little genius's roomie talks to him, to know what the deal with him being invited is: if Max belongs, then the skinny dude clearly does too.

And all of this, she had actually guessed. It was only herself that she hadn't been sure of. To be in Steve McGarrett's bed was one thing, a thing she'd been good at, had been used to, but – but that was all she'd expected. She'd always been fond of him, sure, but she knows that people, that _men_ , tend to have idealised views of how a woman should feel about a situation like this, and – and she hadn't expected to be granted the leeway to feel how she actually does. She hadn't expected the leeway to be offered something more, hadn't expected anyone to understand that she'd never lain claim to McGarrett's sheets. And it was Danny, yes, Danny, who had invited her. She'd heard the one-second surprise of his partner in the background; nothing under the sun could disguise McGarrett's exclamations from a woman who'd thoroughly fucked him, after all. And maybe Danny had thought he was doing her a favour, had thought he was offering her a chance with the man; the dear, stupid, clueless man. And he has, she thinks, as she flicks her eyes back from Kono's glow, to the men who've now apparently lost the football and have simply degenerated to tackling one another into the waves. It's liberty, to be offered the chance that so few men would even think of giving her.

A relationship, but a different kind.

A better kind, Cat thinks. With an unfortunate lack of orgasms, of course, but the universe was never supposed to end with a bang, let alone a whimper, and it isn't as though she doesn't have her own hands still.

Cat can feel Chin Ho's attention on her from the other side of the cooker, and she meets his gaze, even as he turns it towards his boss, and raises an eyebrow knowingly. Cat raises one of her own right back, and grins. She lets her vision flick back to Kono, then, and wonders what it is about these people that she can feel like not-a-slut for doing it; wonders what it is, that they can let her stand within her own skin and feel like it's okay, okay to feel free in the way that the boys in the sea are laughing, engaging, endearing. And yeah, Cat's mother really didn't raise her for situations like this, really didn't raise her daughter to be so overwhelmingly glad to see her favourite lay falling into the ocean with another man – or to be so pleased at the death of DADT, come to think of it – but it's good, it's good.

Chin rolls his eyes, lets his face flash warning when he sees her turn towards Kono; when they both see Kono giving her a curious once-over in return. Chin's warning is mostly mocking, Cat thinks, and self-deprecation, and good natured teasing, but it's all laced through with a thimble of earnest, deadly threat, which somehow warms her, rather than worries her.

Cat moves swiftly, liberates a knifeful of flesh white fish from beneath Chin Ho's protection, and raises it in Kono's direction like a suggestion. Kono grins, slips one knee off the edge of her chair, and pats the space left free by her shifting. She takes the fish Cat gives her, greasy and hot, with an almost childish airpunch of success; Kamekona starts muttering something that sounds like nothing but affection, and Chin laughs something about owning a gun you know, and Cat takes her seat against Kono.

“Don't we all, cuz,” Kono drawls, and Cat wriggles, relaxing into the feel of a knee pressed against her side, strong and easy. Kono is warm behind her, and the sun is warm above her, low lilting breeze sliding in over the sea, and Cat watches Steve and Danny, and listens to Chin and Kamekona, and the strange staccato commentary of Max and his roommate, and thinks, no, actually, perhaps it really was this, in the end, that her mother had intended her for.

“To family,” Cat says, not even a little ironically, and decides, _yeah_ , as smiles and drinks are raised in laughing agreement.


End file.
